Louis Beside Himself (21 page)

I was about to launch into the delicate matter of how we might arrange the meeting with her daughter when the front door slammed.

‘Oh, that will be Jimmy,' said Anne. ‘He's been at the gym.'

‘I thought he worked Friday nights?'

‘Cordelia told you? Yes, he used to work at the club, but there was a bit of trouble. The manager was a brute, Jimmy said, so now he's got work at the gym. He's done years of training, you know, weightlifting, wrestling, that kind of thing, so it's easy for him.' She smiled and hugged herself. ‘Oh, he'll be so pleased to hear about Cordelia!'

We listened to the heavy tread up the hall, the pause halfway at the bedroom, a dull thud as something was thrown in there . . . and then a man as tall and wide as a built-in wardrobe filled up the kitchen doorway.

17
THE TOP ROLL
M
OVE

‘Jimmy! Louis has found Cordelia!'

My stomach turned to water.

Jimmy was dressed in a gym singlet and black jeans. His neck jutted forward as he squinted at me, like a pit bull terrier sniffing before it attacked. His head was shaved, but stubble spread like a stain over his jaw and above his top lip. His eyes were ice-blue. They didn't change as he pretended to smile.

‘Louis, eh?' His voice was surprisingly high, almost a squeak, maybe due to all the effort he was putting into looking pleased to see me. He took a beer from the fridge. Sitting down heavily, he cracked open the can and drank.

I couldn't help staring at his neck as he threw his head back to guzzle. It was broad and muscled, but what fascinated me was the tattoo of a tiger above his collar bone, writhing to the rhythm of the jugular vein beneath.

Cordelia hadn't mentioned a tiger.

Anne leaned forward and touched his forearm. ‘Louis has been talking to Cordelia, Jimmy. She's okay, she's all right!'

Jimmy nodded. ‘What did I tell you? She just needed to let off some steam.' His voice was different when he talked to Anne. Deeper, almost protective. He squeezed Anne's hand, and reached over to touch her cheek. Then he looked at me. ‘And we've got you to thank for the news, have we, Louis?' He smiled for about the length of a thunder-clap, then wiped his mouth.

‘So, where is our Cordelia then?'

I tried to find my politician's approach, and pick up another angle of the subject, but words evaded me.

‘What's the matter, boy? Lost your tongue?' He flexed his shoulders, cracking his neck from side to side. When he clenched and unclenched his pectoral muscles, (or
pecs
, as Miles calls them), wild animals came to life on his upper torso.

I wished suddenly that I'd told Dad where I was going. I wished he was here with me now, talking tax breaks and superannuation input. Maybe that was something I could suggest to Jimmy as a sweetener if things got difficult – my dad could give him free tax advice if he didn't break my arms. But Jimmy didn't look like the kind of guy who'd be
interested
in paying tax.

‘Cordelia's been staying in a tent,' Anne put in, saving me.

‘What, with one of her boyfriends?'

‘
No!
' The word slipped out of my mouth like a burp. ‘I mean, she hasn't
got
a boyfriend.'

Jimmy raised his eyebrows with a sneer. ‘Is that what she told you? Well, she mightn't this week, but her last guy . . . he was arrested for drink-driving on his P-plates, and Cordelia was with him. She came home smelling like a pub.'

I looked at Anne. How could a mother sit there and have someone tell lies like that about her daughter? And with that sneer in his voice?

Anne was fiddling with a hangnail. She didn't look up at me.

Jimmy shook his head. ‘He used to come in here and rake through the fridge. Then he and Cor'd drink all my beer.'

Anne sighed. ‘I told you, that was him, not Cordelia. She's underage, she doesn't even
like
beer.' She tore off the bit of skin. ‘I . . . think,' she added uncertainly. She glanced at me. ‘It's true that we argue, Cordelia and I. Mostly about that boyfriend. She didn't mention him?'

I shook my head. ‘She did say there were arguments, and she wished you two were closer, like when you were living down south.'

‘Oh, but that was so many years ago.' Anne blinked, smiling.

I decided to risk something. A truth. I tried to block Jimmy out of my mind, which was difficult on account of his being built like a wardrobe. I looked straight at Anne, into those deep-green eyes. ‘Cordelia said she thought you'd be relieved that she'd left, that you were sick of her and the trouble she caused. She thought you wanted to be left in peace with . . . with
your
boyfriend.'

Anne drew in her breath. ‘Oh, as if . . . heavens, all families argue, especially in these teenage . . . oh, my poor little girl.'

Jimmy snorted and crushed the empty can in his fist. The dragon on his forearm blew smoke. ‘You know, I caught that guy coming out of our room once, and he had a fistful of cash in his hand.'

‘When was that?' said Anne.

‘Oh, can't remember exactly, a few weeks ago.' Jimmy waved the can in the air.

Anne was quiet for a moment. ‘I wondered,' she said, as if talking to herself. ‘I wondered where that money went. I was keeping it for the electrician, to do the rewiring. I thought I must have made a mistake, forgotten where I put it.' Anne turned to Jimmy. ‘Why didn't you say something?'

Jimmy got up to go to the fridge. ‘I don't know, he was out the door before I could do anything. I couldn't be sure, and anyway, you'd been pretty upset and I didn't want to cause you any more worries.' He came back with another can, and bent his face down to Anne's. ‘You know I want to save you from as much upset as possible, don't you, babe. That's my job.'

He rubbed his rough cheek against hers. She closed her eyes a moment, smiling. It made you want to vomit. What on earth did a woman like Anne see in him? How could she
like
that stubbly, lying cheek? Or the tiger below it?

Jimmy put the can down and headed for the door. ‘Back in a sec, gotta go to the little boy's room.'

We heard his heavy steps and the slam of the bathroom door.

Anne traced her fingers over the empty cup in front of her. She looked at me, and away. ‘Sometimes it's hard living with teenagers,' she said uncertainly. ‘You never know if you're doing the right thing. Whether you should be their best friend so that they'll tell you what's going on, or whether you should be strict and discipline them. But when you do, oh, the anger and arguments – you're scared they'll just light out of here. Cordelia . . . she's almost starting her final year, you have to let them make their own decisions . . . but that doesn't mean it's easy to live with.' She trailed off, running her finger over a groove in the table. ‘You just never know what's right, you know?'

I looked at Anne. I probably had about four minutes at the most. ‘I know you've only just met me, but you'll have to believe me – Cordelia was in a terrible state when I first met her. She was . . . she was running away from Jimmy.'

We both heard the toilet flush. I went on in a rush. ‘She was terrified. She said
Jimmy
stole that money, that he's not who you think he is— '

‘What?' Jimmy obviously hadn't bothered to wash his hands. He took a giant step and loomed over me. ‘What the hell are you saying? Who's not who you think?' He bent down and thrust his face right into mine. ‘Who are
you
, you little liar?' The beer on his breath was overwhelming. The tiger on his neck throbbed.

‘Jimmy, stop it . . .' Anne was tugging at his arm. He didn't look at her. He wouldn't take his eyes from my face. I was holding my breath so I wouldn't pass out from the fumes. His fingers grabbed my shirt, digging into my skin. They gave me a hint of his strength. Fighting him would be like a mouse fighting a lion.

We gazed at each other for maybe ten seconds while I asked myself what the hell I thought I was doing. The other grown-up sitting next to me was smaller than me! And she had no influence over Jimmy; she didn't seem to really know him at all. In those seconds I imagined how Cordelia must have felt being alone with him, caught in his power, feeling the strength of that finger jabbing at her.

What are you going to do, TALK your way out of the ring?
I could hear Dad jeer.

An idea stirred. I tried to control the racing of my heart. It was a crazy idea, but it might just buy me some time.

‘Hey, Jimmy,' I said, eyeing the hand that was holding my shirt. ‘You've got a great grip there. You work out, don't you. But are you any good at arm-wrestling?'

‘What?'

‘See, to be a success, you need a particular set of skills. I should know, coming from a long line of wrestlers. I was just telling Anne here about it. I was saying, you wouldn't think my father is who he says he is, just to look at him. I mean,
his
father, my grandfather, was one famous wrestler! He was called The Demon – ever heard of him?'

Jimmy stared. His fingers loosened, his hand dropping by his side.

I nodded. ‘Well, so my father trained to be a wrestler, too – he wanted to continue the family tradition.' I leaned forward confidentially. ‘But you know, my father's specialty is arm-wrestling. I've learned a trick or two from him in my time – you mightn't think it to look at me – but you want to give me a try? I could pass on a few tips.'

I rolled up my shirt sleeve. My heart was pounding but I made my voice smooth and even. Jimmy sat down hard at the table. A smirk made his eyes mean. He slid his elbow onto the table and held out his hand to me.

God, I was in for it now. This was real life – but I had to keep on making up what came next. I could feel every cell in my body shuddering.

I sat down opposite, trying to match his smirk. I put my hand into his. As his fist closed tight around mine and he started to push, I felt the power of a bulldozer.

‘Wait!' I said. ‘That's the mistake everyone makes. You go at it straight away like a sledgehammer, then before you know it, there's a stalemate. I mean, that's if you're wrestling someone your own weight and strength. Instead, there are various techniques to gain the advantage, no matter who you're opposing. Take the Top Roll move, for instance.'

‘Oh yeah?' said Jimmy. ‘What's that when it's at home?' He gave a grunting laugh, rolling his eyes as if I was crazy, but I could tell he wanted to know. He could take all this info back to the gym and play top dog.

‘Well, it's also known as the outside move, because we use the outside of our arms, our biceps. You're looking to get back pressure and gain leverage against your opponent.' ‘What?'

I wished for a fleeting moment that I could do something about expanding Jimmy's vocabulary rather than his arm-wrestling moves, but sometimes you just have to let it go.

‘Okay. Sit square to the table – that's right, so your hips have room to move underneath. Now you drop your knees, your hips coming forward – Jimmy, in slow motion – your shoulders are moving back away from the table. Now, at the same time turn your wrist over and rotate your hand so the knuckles are facing your opponent. Yes, like so! Apply pressure to the little finger and ring finger of your opponent's –
ow!

' Jimmy slammed my hand down with such force that the can of beer bounced twice and fell off the table.

‘Be careful, Jimmy,' cried Anne.

I rubbed the back of my hand
S
URREPTITIOUSLY
, which means
secretly
, on my jeans. It stung like fire. I tried a lazy smile. ‘Now that was okay, but what if you're facing someone as strong as or even stronger than you? You didn't finish all the moves, and you could have been locked in and relying on brute strength.'

But Jimmy, I could see, was getting tired of this game. He had the attention span of a gnat, as Rosie would say. And relying on brute strength was probably how he'd got to where he was today.

‘Let's try that again,' I said.

Look your opponent in the eye and distract him with a
compliment on his hair,
said Dad.

I looked at Jimmy. He was bald as an egg. He had an earring, though. A shiny diamond stud. ‘Hey, nice earring,' I said. ‘That must have cost you a bomb. Is it a real diamond?'

As Jimmy hesitated, I gained five centimetres . . . before Jimmy slammed my hand down again.

‘Maybe that's enough now,' said Anne, stretching across the table to wipe up spilled beer. As she leaned towards us, her gold earring flashed in the overhead light.

‘You have nice earrings, too,' I said lamely. Anything to fill the
O
MINOUS
silence. I searched all round my mind, but neither Dad nor I had another word to say.

‘Thank you.' She fingered the gold hoop, tucking her hair back behind her ear.

I looked more closely. A small milky stone was set in the middle of the gold.

‘That's unusual,' I said. ‘It's onyx, isn't it? Onyx is a . . . kind of quartz. It comes from the old Greek word
onux
, meaning fingernail – see that pinkish stripe, like a fingernail?'

Anne took off an earring to study it. ‘Yes!' She smiled. ‘How do you know that?'

I shrugged, humbly. ‘Well, I suppose it's because I take a great interest in jewellery. As well as wrestling.'

Jimmy snorted.

‘No, really,' I went on, then stopped. They were both looking at me. It's hard to think fast when your knees are shaking.

‘See, although my father was brought up in a wrestling household, he's actually a first-class
jeweller
. He deals in precious gemstones and antique jewellery.' I shook my head slightly, as if in awe. ‘It's amazing, sometimes I come home to find gold necklaces and diamond earrings just
strewn
all over the dining-room table.'